Prompt 3 Response
“What the FRAG are you doing?!” Bonecrusher’s voice was loud enough that it buzzed out the audio of every mech within earshot. Most froze in their tracks, not even daring to turn their heads to see the actual target of Bonecrusher’s not-inconsiderable wrath.
That target, however, merely looked up and over a loosely floating wingflap, from where he was digging behind the rec room’s couch. “I’m looking for something!” Sunspot said, brightly.
“Lookin’ for a few broken struts, if you ask me,” Bonecrusher said. He skated closer, fists balling with obvious threat.
Well, obvious to everyone except Sunspot. “No…that’s not what I’m looking for.” Sunspot tilted his head, his sole dark optic whirring in and out. “Unless you think that’s better than what I am looking for?”
Bonecrusher’s toes clamped over his wheels, slamming him to a halt. His beetly face ran through a host of expressions, from confusion to contempt to outrage. It stayed on outrage. Possibly confused outrage. “What the frag you lookin’ for?”
Sunspot pushed upright, wiggling his aft excitedly. “I,” he said, importantly, “am looking for a box of sparks.”
Bonecrusher blinked. “Sparks.”
“For spark plugs!” The white and yellow wings bounced excitedly. “It is a VERY important mission that Barricade said he only trusted to me.” Sunspot thrust his chassis out, swelled with so much pride that he nearly fell over.
Yeah. That name told Bonecrusher all he really needed to know. “Barricade.” Or, as Bonecrusher preferred to call him, ‘Jerkface’. “Listen up, stupid-“ he began.
“Sunspot!” The optic blinked, pleased with himself. “I think there must be another mech who looks a lot like me who’s named ‘Stupid’ that everyone keeps mistaking me for.” He nodded, soberly.
Rrrrrrright. “Whatever. Sunspot. Yeah. Fine.” Bonecrusher rolled his optics. “Look. There aren’t any sparks in the fraggin’ sofa.”
The wings drooped. “Are you sure? I’m running out of places to look!”
“Yeah. I’m sure. No sparks in the sofa.” So…he added mentally, get the frag away from it.
“Wellllll, do you know where I could find them?” Sunspot dug with one toe between the cushions. “I mean, maybe one or two kind of slipped out?”
“NO! NONE SLIPPED OUT! AND NOT ON THE FRAGGIN’ SOFA!” Bonecrusher’s voice cracked into a squeak halfway through. He lunged at the slaggin’ idiot droneling, hauling him off the sofa.
Sunspot’s toes clutched reflexively at the cushion, dragging it off with him, so that it flopped on him as Bonecrusher dropped him, in a tangle of cushion and limbs.
Bonecrusher howled, throwing himself on the sofa’s frame, his tires spinning in consternation.
Sunspot fought valiantly against the cushion, finally conquering it, struggling to his feet. He held out the cushion. “It’s more comfortable with this…maybe?” He sounded unsure.
“Go. Away.” Bonecrusher sprawled himself over the naked couch frame.
Sunspot offered the cushion again. “If I don’t put this back, it’ll get lost. Like the sparkplug sparks I’m looking for. I bet if someone put them away, they wouldn’t be so hard to find.” He nodded at his wisdom.
“Shut. Up.” Bonecrusher swipe one long arm at Sunspot, snatching the cushion. He shifted his torso, trying to shove the wadded cushion under him.
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!” Sunspot squealed. “Cute kitty!”
Bonecrusher roared, trying to drown out Sunspot’s words. He swiped again, but Sunspot moved too fast, and came up holding the floppy pink humiliation Bonecrusher knew as Kitty-Chan.
Bonecrusher bellowed, glaring around the rec room. Mechs suddenly decided, en masse, that it was time to go Somewhere Else in Extreme Haste. One muttered that Sunspot was going to be flatter than a washer in about 20 kliks.
“It’s cute!” Sunspot said, clutching the pink toy. “And look how happy!” He turned Kitty-Chan so that the smiling face and enormous eyes faced Bonecrusher.
“Give. Me. That. NOW!”
Sunspot handed it over, bobbing his head, eagerly. “I always thought the magic word was ‘please’ but Barricade told me that the real ‘magic word’ is ‘now’!” He wiggled happily. “I’m getting so smart!”
Bonecrusher would have glared the slaggin’ paint off the droneling if he hadn’t been so busy checking Kitty-Chan for damage. Fraggin’ droneling probably got his Stupid Cooties all over it. Bonecrusher fluffed the bow.
And then, there was ‘Barricade’ again. A menace to law and order. Certainly a menace to Bonecrusher’s peace of mind. He had to be stopped, the uppity little interceptor.
“Hey, Stu-Sunspot,” he said, optics glinting slyly. “I’ll help you find those sparks you need. You know. Like…thanks.” He tucked Kitty-Chan back in his cab compartment. Last time he took Kitty-Chan out of his recharge cube. Three-D movie or not.
“You will?” The wings popped up, clapping against each other.
“Yeah. I’ll help. Betcha Barricade didn’t tell you the special equipment you needed to get the sparks.”
The wings drooped. “No, he didn’t. I…I guess he thinks I should have known already?”
Yeah. Not so much. Bonecrusher nodded. “Whatever. Here’s what you need to go ask him for, though.” Bonecrusher leaned in, dropping his voice. “Tell him you need the keys to the flux capacitor.”